Drawing A Future Together
by bluedawn01
Summary: John was not looking for girlfriend or a partner or even a one-night stand, despite what his friend Jack encouraged. But the night after he hears that his former fiance is engaged again, will that change? Maybe the pretty artist he met at Jack's party will inspire him to look for a future once more...(Eight/Rose, AU)
1. Chapter 1

**I wrote a thing! It is actually not what it was supposed to be at all…that seems to be happening to my muse a lot lately. I wanted tipsy, strangers-who-meet-at-a-party Eight/Rose with shagging and it got…a bit different. But have not fear…there is a party, there is Eight/Rose, there is tipsy-ness and there will be shagging, but it'll take another chapter. If you don't want the smut, just read Chapter One as a one-shot. Also, if any of my wonderfully talented, artistically inclined friends would like to draw any of this…I would be really excited! (winks and nudges amazingly talented friends). Shout outs to X-Files, Serenity and a tinsy Big Bang Theory reference. **

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><p>"Jack, I already told you. No," John said, shifting his mobile from one shoulder to the other and opening his refrigerator. He sighed at the nearly empty contents, picking up a questionable loaf of bread before dropping it in the rubbish bin in disgust. Grimacing, he took stock: a case of Guinness, some very suspicious fruit and a milk carton he really didn't want to open. Apparently, he was having takeaway for the weekend.<p>

"C'mon, man! It's been forever since you've had a weekend off! You're not even on call! You need to come to my party. I'll make it worth your while," the voice of his friend cajoled on the other end of the line.

John rolled his eyes at the flirty line and began rummaging about for some menus. "Exactly. I haven't had a day off in 'forever' which is why what I 'need' is to spend the night alone, watching telly, eating sweets and sleeping in tomorrow."

"No, what you _need_ is to get laid!" Jack replied.

"No need to be crass, Jack," he reprimanded, without much heat. He'd known Jack for years and Jack was just...Jack. He was hoping that his friend would take the hint and drop the subject but, as ever, he was persistent.

"It's been two years, John. Two years since you and Joan broke up and I know that you haven't had any since then."

"And how, pray tell, would you know that?" John replied, amused despite himself. He moved aside a few measuring cups and pots that he was sure he'd never used in his entire life, banging around a bit.

"Because I would know," Jack replied cockily, laughing on the other end. "I am like a sexy bloodhound for this sort of thing."

"Sexy bloodhound? Really? That's what you're going with?" John laughed.

"Hey, I could make it work," Jack defended.

"I'm sure you could. But I'm still not coming tonight." He finally found a large stack of takeaway menus under some old bills in a drawer and began sifting through them to find dinner.

"Oh, but you could. Multiple times, I'm sure," Jack answered lasciviously and John smacked himself for handing him that line. "All you have to do is find the right lady. Or the right gentleman. I'm not picky."

"Well, we all know that," he retorted. "Anyway, I find it hard to believe that there will be any one that could classify as a 'lady' or a 'gentleman' at a party thrown by you," John teased.

"All manner of man and beast are welcome in mine kingdom," Jack replied in a put-on ridiculous version of an English accent and John could hear the wink in his voice, could practically picture him posing in his flat as he continued, "And in mine bedchamber."

"Sorry, your majesty. But Scully is the only lady for me tonight. And Mr. Guinness the only man," John finished, finally deciding to just select a menu at random. Ah, Chinese, apparently.

"Ugh," Jack replied. "I don't see how you can watch that show. Way too much sexual tension for me. Will they, won't they? Did he see her take her shirt off? Did she touch his hand on purpose?" Jack sighed. "It's hell. Just shag already, you two."

"Hey, they just kissed!" John defended.

"Yeah? After how many seasons?" Jack teased. "And how many heated looks and near-undressings? Long, meaningful hugs and bedroom eyes?"

"Shut it," John replied, flopping down on his couch to look over the menu. Maybe he'd just order everything.

"Hey, that's what you need! A smart, hot firecracker of a girl that'll challenge you and your crazy alien beliefs. Although, you're more a blondes man, aren't you?"

"My previous remark still stands. Shut it, Jack. And aliens are real. Everyone knows that."

"John, seriously. The weekend after a man's ex-fiancee gets engaged to another man, he doesn't hang around the house eating crappy takeaway and watching telly. He gets off his butt, he puts on those jeans that make it look fantastic and he has some good, hard rebound sex with a girl he finds at his best mate's party," Jack continued, oblivious to the sudden silence on the other end.

"Oliver proposed?" John asked, weakly, after a long moment of silence.

"Oh, man. I'm so sorry. I thought you knew," Jack replied, sounding remorseful on the other end.

"No," he answered, quietly. "But it's ok. She...she's happy with him. She deserves that."

"Come to the party tonight, John. Seriously. You don't even have to shag anyone. Just...rejoin the land of the living," Jack said, seriously. "It's been too long."

"Ok," John answered, finally, after a deep breath. "Fine. I'll be there."

-

Five hours and four outfits later, John was holding his hand up to knock on Jack's door and regretting this decision already. He had heard the music pounding from Jack's flat all the way down on the street, but he also knew that no one was going to call the police on Jack because Jack had probably invited the whole block. And probably the entire police force. He was about to turn around and go back down for a cab, when the door swung open anyway and two amorously engaged people stumbled out, paying no attention to him whatsoever.

"John!" Jack's voice roared from inside as he was spotted and there was no way he could leave now. The whole party (and, wow. Jack must have invited the entire _city_ not just the block) chorused his name and then immediately went back to their drinks and dancing.

Jack sauntered toward him, giving him a slow once-over as he approached. "Oh, excellent choice. I told you those jeans looked great. And the blue jumper - really brings out your eyes, my friend. You're going to have women throwing themselves at you even before they realize you're a mysterious, brooding doctor."

"I am not here for women to throw themselves at me," John answered, accepting the beer Jack offered him as he ducked inside, looking for the quietest (and apparently, nonexistent) corner of this this party.

"Suit yourself!" Jack answered, clasping him on the shoulder and then smacking him on the bum before disappearing back into the tumultuous crowd.

Now alone in the sea of strangers, John took a deep breath and swig of his beer, wondering if he knew anyone else at this party. Jack's range of friends was wide and extremely varied and it was just as likely that most of these people were complete strangers to Jack as well. Jack just seemed to attract people - in more ways than one.

Sighing, he made his way in the general direction of the kitchen, determined to at least have some food if he was going to stay. On his way through the crowd of writhing bodies, he was groped more times than he could count, ended up dancing with a man dressed as Cher for a few moments and, by the time he'd reached the door to the kitchen, had somehow exchanged his beer for a luridly bright, pink cocktail. Never a dull moment at one of Jack's parties.

An hour later, he was still in the kitchen, although he was now on his third beer (he'd poured out the cocktail in the sink - and it had fizzed up out of the drain, smoking). He was just working up his courage to make it back through the (now even more insane - was that a pig in a space suit?) crowd to leave, when the kitchen door swung open and he was suddenly knocked into the table by a rapidly moving body. His beer went onto the cheese tray and his arm shot out to catch the falling person on instinct.

"Oh, shit! I'm so sorry!" the girl in his arms said, straightening up immediately and picking up his rapidly emptying beer. "There was this guy out there and I was trying to get away from him and - sorry, sorry!" she said again, blindly reaching for a napkin and using, to his amusement, a bit of lunch meat to try and soak up the beer on the cheese tray.

She realized her mistake a moment later and began to giggle. "Turkey?" she said, offering him the oddly soaked deli meat.

"No, thank you," he replied, laughing as well and taking it from her to throw away. "Are you injured, miss? Is that fellow still following you?" he asked, peering toward the door.

"Nope. He got waylaid, I think," she replied. "By Cher, oddly enough."

John laughed once again and tried to decide if it was the two and a half beers or if this girl was really as enchanting as he was beginning to think she was. "Ah, well, you probably _haven't seen the last of him_, then," he quipped.

"Oh, I think I'm _strong enough_ to resist," she replied, sticking her tongue in her teeth as she smiled this time and yes, she was definitely enchanting. And gorgeous. She was wearing a dark blue jumper that was just this side of clingy and the casual heeled boots she had on made her legs look long and toned. She also had a brown leather messenger bag over her shoulder and her trousers, while not extremely tight, showed off some very wonderful looking curves. His eyes darted up to hers as soon as he'd realized he'd taken a detour getting back up to hers and found her still grinning at him.

"John Noble," he said, holding a hand out to her. "Pleasure, I'm sure."

"Rose Tyler," she answered. "And that is yet to be seen," she continued teasingly, making him blush under the harsh kitchen lights.

"So, what do you do, Rose Tyler?" he asked, moving to grab another beer from fridge and offering her one as well, which she accepted easily. He moved in closer to her, wanting to continue their conversation, even over the raucous din of the music in the next room and the push of bodies all around them, coming and going near the food table.

"I'm a graphic designer at a firm downtown called Bad Wolf Publishing," Rose said, opening her beer on the edge of the countertop and leaning against it to smile at him.

"An artist?" he said, interested.

"Yep," she said, popping the 'p'. "Had to go back for the graphic design part later, though. Which was hard after listening to years of my mum's 'I told you an degree in art history wouldn't get you a job', speeches."

"But you like it?" he asked, leaning in a bit closer as the sound of 'I Gotta Feeling' ratcheted up even further.

"Oh, yeah!" she enthused. "And I still do a bit of freelance art on the side, got a website and all. 's how I know Jack, actually."

"Really?" he asked, frowning slightly, trying to think of what need Jack might have for a freelance artist. "OH! Did you those drawings of him that are hanging in his office?"

"That depends," she answered, coyly, leaning a bit closer to him now. She smelled like lager and sunshine and he was momentarily distracted by the particular shade of her pink lips.

"Hmmm," he said, blankly, and it was a moment before he yanked his eyes back up to hers and then he coughed. The beer seemed to be having a bit of an effect on his self-restraint, apparently. "Wait, what do you mean, 'that depends'? Is your involvement in their creation conditional?" he asked, attempting to regain his equilibrium.

She laughed gaily again, moving one hand up to rest on his shoulder. "Well, no, but it would make me feel better if you liked them."

"Jack wouldn't stop talking about them for months," John answered, shivering slightly at the feeling of her hand on his shoulder, but blaming it on the haze of the alcohol in his system. Jack really had enthused about the prints non-stop after he'd commissioned them and they decorated his entire downtown office. Each drawing depicted Jack in a different outfit or era, being heroic and manly, of course. Although John had rolled his eyes at his friend's narcissism, he did have to agree that they were good work. "Yeah, I do like them. The one of him as the RAF pilot is my favourite, I think."

"Oh! Mine too!" Rose said. "It just really fit him, somehow. Some men are born to wear long coats. Anyway, that's what I really love to do...take people and draw them in other settings, make them what they want to be. I have to say, though, Jack was really disappointed when I told him he didn't have to model that Greek one for me."

"I bet he was," John grumbled. "Was the figleaf your idea or his?"

"Oh, mine, definitely." Rose giggled and then moved the hand on his shoulder up to brush a lock of his curly hair from his eyes. "You've got really great bone structure," she said, tilting her head the side and assessing him. He wondered what she saw there. He needed a bit of a haircut, but this was nothing like the way he used to wear it in med school. Back then, it had been shoulder length and wavy. His face was a bit craggy and he'd probably cut himself shaving before coming here, but he wasn't terrible looking, he knew. In fact, there were always women eyeing him up in the hospital canteen, which he generally ignored. Rose's hand came up and brushed over his cheekbone and he shivered again, before she moved it down to turn his head gently by the chin. "You're really, properly gorgeous, actually. I'd love to draw you."

His eyes widened at the compliment and the offer and then, to his delight, she blushed. "I mean, if, if you wanted. I could. Sorry," she stammered, stepping back from him and bumping into the counter.

"I'd love that," he answered, smiling warmly. Her return smile lit up crowded, noisy kitchen and, to his great surprise, she hopped up onto the counter right in front of him and took a pad of paper out of her bag, which she dropped to her feet. "What, are you going to do it right now?" John asked, incredulously.

"No time like the present!" she chirped, grinning at him, pencil already flying over the paper. "Now, what would you like to be, John Noble? Actually, what are you already? What do you do, I mean?"

"I'm a doctor, pediatrics," he replied, shifting slightly and he tugged at the cuff of his jumper, pulling it over the tattoo at his wrist, feeling exposed.

"Oh, cool!" she answered and he sighed in relief. She seemed sincere in her admiration but not fawning or manipulative like some women he'd met after he told them his profession and she didn't say anything about the symbol on his inner wrist. "D'you like it, your job?"

"Very much so," John answered, honestly. "It gets a bit lonely, long shifts and longer hours...and it can be grueling, but I feel like I'm really doing something, you know? Like I'm helping people every day, even if it's just a little bit."

"A hero, then," Rose said, seriously, looking down at her paper. "I can work with that."

"No, not a hero," he said, quickly, reaching out to stop her hand for a moment. "Just a man trying to make a difference, in whatever way he can."

"How about an adventurer, then?" she smiled, her hazel eyes darting up to look into his soul through the blue-gray windows of his eyes. "Hmm...cowboy?"

"Not quite my style," he laughed, trying to picture himself in a cowboy hat with Jack's ridiculous accent. "I'm more of a Star Trek man than a Wild West fan. Oh, that rhymed."

"Ooo, a space cowboy," she teased, her eyes lighting up. "That's perfect."

"Wait a second -"

"Nope, nope! Space cowboy it is!" she grinned, flashing him that tongue-in-teeth smile and, oh, he had better finish this beer or he was going to reach over and snog that expression right off her face.

Which was completely ridiculous. He knew nothing about her (except that her name was Rose Tyler, she was a talented artist and the way she was leaning down over her paper, he could see down her jumper just a bit) and he certainly didn't go around kissing random women at questionable parties.

He stood, watching her unabashedly as her pencil flew across the page. She glanced up at him every now and then and his breath caught each time. While she worked, he catalouged the way her teeth bit slightly into her bottom lip and her left thumb became smudged black as she used it to blur elegant lines of graphite. "You can still talk to me, if you want," Rose said, suddenly, pulling him out of the rather brilliant fantasy he'd been creating about shagging her on that counter.

Oooh, where had that thought come from?

"Ok," he responded, trying desperately to think of something to say to her that wasn't 'You're gorgeous, too' or 'Would you care to come back to my place' or 'Please, for the love of all that is holy, don't have a boyfriend'. "D'you have a boyfriend?" he blurted out.

Oops.

Her head shot up and the pencil paused. "No," she said, cocking an eyebrow at him. "Do you?"

He sputtered out the relief-filled drink he'd just taken. "NO!" he said, quickly, loudly enough that a few people turned around to look at him. "No boyfriend. Or girlfriend. But definitely no boyfriend. Why would you think that?"

She shrugged one shoulder and her mouth quirked into a grin as she went back to drawing. "You're fit, and you're friends with Jack."

"All right, I'll give you that," he laughed. So, she thought he was fit _and_ gorgeous. Then, and he would completely blame the beer, if someone asked, he announced, "I was engaged once."

The pencil slowed, but only minutely. "Oh?" Rose asked.

He slumped on the counter beside her as it seemed imminently important to talk about this all of a sudden and his inhibitions seemed to have flown away. "It ended two years ago. She was a nurse at the hospital where I did my residency and where I work now. She was pretty and older and I thought...I thought that was the way it was supposed to go. Finish school, become a doctor, get married, have kids, then retire to go on cruises and grow tomatoes. We met when I was doing rounds. She expected me to ask her out, so I did. She expected us to date for a year, so we did. She expected me to propose, so I did. But it wasn't….we just weren't…"

Rose wasn't drawing anymore, she was just watching him with kindness and interest and it gave him courage. He hadn't talked about this with anyone, actually, not even Jack, but it seemed like Rose would be a good person to tell even if this seemed like a ridiculous place to discuss it (the peeling sound of Katy Perry was now blazing from the other room) and most of the people around them were in some state of undress and well on their way to shagging on a bowl of crisps.

"Jack tells me I watch too much television, but...but, you know like in films or on the telly, when the main characters meet for the first time and their hands touch and it's like...it's like they can feel the earth turning? Like the world is spinning so fast, revolving just around them? Like every brush is exciting and every glance means _something_? Like they just couldn't live without each other if they ever let go, if they ever lost one another, they could never forget, never move on, never, ever..." He peered up at her earnestly and, if his vision was a bit blurry, that was because of the lager not because of any tears. "Do you know what I mean, Rose?"

To his enormous relief, she answered, quietly, "Yeah." And he thought she really did know, as the sounds of the party faded away a moment and it was just the two of them, caught together in that one finite moment. Then someone(s) knocked a tray of food to the floor and she went back to her drawing and he took a deep breath to continue, relaxing further without her direct gaze on him but with her comforting warmth nearby.

"It wasn't like that with...with Joan. I wanted it to be, honestly I did. I wanted it to be like that so badly. But it wasn't. And I thought, 'Well, that's the way it's supposed to be in real life'. 'You're an adult now, John, hang up those silly notions. There aren't fireworks, there isn't a grand sweeping soundtrack and there certainly isn't love, not like that.' After a few months, she broke it off, didn't say why...but I was relieved. How rubbish is that? I was _relieved_ that she'd ended it, that she'd left me. I saw her a few times, passed her in the halls or saw her in the canteen. She'd met someone else...Oliver Redfern. He's a general surgeon. They just got engaged. Yesterday, according to Jack."

"Are you ok?" Rose asked, and his heart swelled again at kindness in her tone.

"Actually, yeah. I mean, it's a little hard because I cared for her, you know, and I'm alone now. But I've seen them together. And...and they're just so happy together. She's a lot happier with him than she ever was with me. So, yeah. Yeah, you know, I think I am ok," he finished, nodding to himself and feeling a hell of a lot more sober than he had just a few moments before. He nodded along to the strains of the Killers for a moment, thinking to himself and he was just about to say something else to Rose, when she looked up at him.

"Done," Rose said, hopping off the counter and presenting the sketch to him with a flourish. He looked at her over top of the paper and there was that warmth and understanding there again, smiling gently back at him. She understood.

John held her gaze a moment longer and then looked down at the pencil drawing in his hand, his jaw dropping. The sketch was him, undoubtedly, but she really had recreated him as though he had just stepped out of a science fiction film. He was wearing sturdy, brown boots that laced up to his knees and patterned britches with a matching waistcoat, over an open-collared oxford. He could practically feel the textured surface of the material in the exquisite rendering Rose had made. At his waist was a leather belt with an infinity symbol buckle (ah, so she had seen the tattoo) and around his neck was simply-knotted, navy scarf. His outfit was completed with a long, double breasted jacket that she had shaded in dark and it was billowing behind him a bit, as though she had just caught him mid-step. Every line of his face was in place, there was a bit of scruff on his chin and the curl that she'd just brushed from his eyes a moment earlier had fallen back down. But what arrested him even more than all of those flawless details, was the expression on his face. He looked determined and resolute and yet a bit tired and lonely, exactly how he felt inside. His right hand was outstretched toward the viewer, as if he were reaching for someone, looking for someone to fill that space between his fingers with theirs. It was as though his every emotion was staring up at him through the grainy veneer of Rose's drawing.

He was speechless.

"Do you like it?" she asked, quietly, fidgeting with the strap of her messenger bag as she tucked it back over her shoulder and then moved her thumb up to her mouth to chew on the nail.

"Like it?" he breathed. "Rose, it's -"

Suddenly the door to the kitchen burst open, and the pig - yes, it had been a pig earlier, huh - followed closely by Cher and then Jack came barreling into the kitchen, sending the table flying and scattering people and food everywhere. John clutched Rose's precious drawing close to his chest and reached out for her automatically, trying to keep from being separated in the mass chaos that was following the strange trio. His hand connected with hers, and a frisson of excitement shot from his hand up his arm and straight into his heart.

His eyes darted over to meet hers, knowing that she felt it too. He grinned widely and then, though she probably couldn't hear him over the incredible din, he mouthed, "Run!"

And they did.


	2. Chapter 2

**Weeelll, look at that. One additional chapter of fun has turned into two! Mr. Quick Draw there is as per request from lunarsilverwolfstar (poor guy...it has been two years). Also, huge thanks to my chat ladies larxenethefirefly, kelkat9, LittleWhoMouse, Calli, fogsblue for their help and inspiration! References X-Files, Firefly, TBBT, Princess Bride and LOTR (John and Rose are big nerds) =)**

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><p>They ran all the way out of Jack's flat down to the street, where they collapsed against one another, laughing. "Was it just me or did that man in the cape standing on the table and shouting look like Charles Dickens?" John asked, once he had regained his voice.<p>

"I was too busy looking at that giant green guy!" Rose giggled. "Why was he green, d'you think? And what was wrong with his arm?"

"At one of Jack's parties, it's hard to tell," John replied, stroking his thumb against hers automatically and then freezing at her sharp intake of breath. He made a move as if to let go, albeit reluctantly, unsure of their dynamics now that they were outside the crowded, noisy party, but she only gripped back tighter.

"Beg your pardon-" he said at the same time she stammered "I'm sorry!" and then they both blushed, looking down at the entwined digits.

"No, I mean, it's just, you surprised me, is all," Rose said. "I don't mind. Feels, ah. Feels good."

"Oh, well. Good, then," John answered, lamely. A taxi passed by and they watched it go, the first uncomfortable silence between the descending in its wake. "Would you like to accompany me - ah," he trailed off and Rose's eyebrows went up a bit. "That is to say, it would be my pleasure to - no, no. That's not what I mean. We, we could...share a cab, perhaps?" he tried, almost rolling his eyes at himself in his frustration. He sounded like nervous, blushing, adolescent virgin, not a successful, thirty-something doctor who had once been engaged, for Pete's sake.

Although, he wasn't entirely sure what was giving him the courage to even ask her to come with him in first place. He had certainly never invited a woman back to his flat like this before. But he also had never been quite so captivated by one before, either. What if she said no?

Oh, dear heaven and Earth. What if she said _yes_?

Rose tilted her head the side and then he felt her thumb brush against his, just as he had done earlier. "Ok," she said, smiling at him slowly, a full, toothy grin that he was enamoured with quite quickly.

He smiled back at her dopily a moment and then his eyes widened as he remembered what he'd asked. Oh, oh, oh. She'd just said yes.

Now what?

Her smile grew wider as he gave her the drawing to hold, then raised his left hand to hail a cab, trying to hide that he was obviously flustered. A black cab pulled up in front of them and he opened the door for her, using their connected hands to assist her into the backseat.

"You're quite a gentleman," remarked Rose, once they were both settled in.

"And you sound quite surprised at that," he replied, smiling at her in the dim light of the cab, enjoying the way the passing city lights cast her silhouette in an array of beautiful colours.

"I mean, you seem very old-fashioned," she continued, looking down at the drawing in her hand. "That's one reason I put you in this outfit. The waistcoat and watch? It seemed to fit you and your opening doors and 'Beg your pardon's."

"I hadn't said that or opened any doors for you before you drew that," he pointed out, resting their hands on his knee, with his on the bottom. He hadn't even noticed the tiny, immaculate chain dangling from the waistcoat pocket and he wondered if she knew he actually had a watch like that in his trouser pocket.

"No, but you did call me 'miss' and you heroically saved me from falling flat on my face - and didn't try to cop a feel while you were at it. Plus, I could just see it in you. You're an old soul, John Noble. Not to mention that I only caught you looking down my jumper once," she said, giggling at his face as she tucked the drawing away in her bag. "Most blokes would have barely even looked me in the face."

"I was raised by my grandfather," John answered, a bit surprised at his willingness to share more of himself with her so easily. But even as he shook off the lingering effects of the alcohol in his system, he found himself content to reveal to her things he rarely spoke of to anyone. "He told me that the respect of a woman was the greatest honour she could bestow and to get that honour, you had to give her your respect. I think he'll love you."

He just restrained himself from clapping his hand over his mouth at that last statement and even so, he cringed in his seat, ready for Rose's rejection. 'He'll love you'? He had known her for less than two hours and he was already talking about introducing her to his grandfather? She was going to think he was an absolute nutter or desperate. Or both.

Rose was quiet a moment while he held his breath and then she squeezed their clasped hands. "He sounds lovely," she said and his mind raced to dissect her meaning. Did she mean that she wanted to meet him? Did she mean that she _didn't_ want to meet him?

He really needed to stop getting ahead of himself.

The cab began to slow and John looked up in surprise (and panic) as he noted that they were on his street, near his block of flats. He had just told the driver his address out of habit and Rose hadn't added anything. Was she assuming that he meant for her to come up with him (he did, but surely that was terribly presumptuous and possibly quite rude) or was she just waiting for him to exit so she could continue on to her own home?

He turned to her in the seat, their hands still together and still on his knee giving him a bit of courage. "Would you like to come up for a cup of tea?" he asked, bravely.

Rose blinked at him a moment and then her bright smile flashed at him, even in the dusk of the cab. "Love to," she answered. He released her hand to dig out his wallet and paid the driver with shaking fingers, keeping his eyes on Rose, who exited the cab to stand on the sidewalk. The muted glow of the streetlamp above her head reflected in her blonde hair and she seemed to glitter almost golden in the dim light.

"Have fun, then," the cab driver grunted, nodding lasciviously toward Rose which made John scowl and exit quickly, wishing that he had tipped less generously.

Once outside, Rose immediately returned her fingers to his grip and he led her up the stairs to his building. "I'm on the third floor," he said, apologetically. "And the lift's out."

"How long's it been like that?" she queried, looking at him sideways as they climbed.

"Oh, ages," he replied evasively. "Nothing to do with me, of course."

"Mm-hmm," Rose replied, knowingly. "You sure about that?"

"Quite sure," he bantered back as they reached the second floor. "The fact that it stopped working shortly after I moved in is, of course, purely coincidental."

"Deny it all you want, Noble. The truth is out there," she quoted, her cheeks beginning to flush as they climbed.

John stopped completely, one foot in the air for the next step. "You like the X-Files?" he said, watching her with wide eyes, breath held.

"Of course!" she said, looking at him like he was daft. "What's not to like? Aliens, time travel, romance and snark. Everything I could ever want in a show. I mean - mmph -," she was cut off as John's mouth collided with hers.

Faster than he could believe, he had her pressed up against the wall in the stairwell, the handrail probably digging into her back and the harsh, fluorescent lighting beating down on them but he couldn't have been expected to keep to himself, not after a declaration like that, gentleman or not. Her arms came up around his neck and his went to her hips as they snogged one another breathless on the steps. He pulled back reluctantly as he felt blood begin to rush to his cock, too embarrassed to spout a hard-on in the stairwell after just few moments of kissing.

A few moments of kissing a gorgeous woman.

A few moments of kissing a gorgeous woman who liked the X-Files and who was looking up at him with arousal-darkened eyes and flushed cheeks.

Oh, sod it. If she kept looking at him like that, he might very well shag her here and now.

"Wow," Rose said, following after him as he stepped backward, breathing hard and willing the blood to flow back up toward his brain. "If that was your reaction when I told you I liked the X-Files, wait until you hear about my feelings on Firefly."

"No, no," he groaned, as she prowled closer to him. It was his turn to be pressed against the wall but the cool metal only seemed to heighten his awareness of her as her thighs pressed against his and his erection immediately jumped again at the feeling of her warm lips on the exposed-v of skin at his sternum "Rose, not the place, not here, _oh_," he groaned as her nails scraped over his scalp, pushing his curly hair back from his face as her lips moved up his jawline. It had been _so_ long and oh, that spot there. "Someone might, _ah_ -"

"John," Rose whispered, her mouth now at his ear and he shivered. "Your mouth is talking. You might wanna look to that."

Oh, yes. He was shagging her pretty, little Whedon-quoting mouth right here.

His hands moved back down to her hips, grasping tightly and pulling her firmly against him, both of them moaning at the brilliant friction oh, he was so hard already. John walked them backward again, careful of the narrow step they were on, until it was Rose once again who was against the wall. One of her legs came up to hook around his and he groaned at the shift in pressure as his arousal strained against the seam of his jeans, the sound of his groan echoing loudly in the empty stairwell. Rose's hands traced down his back even as she opened her mouth to welcome his tongue, which he immediately took advantage of, darting in learn all of the secrets of her hot mouth. One of Rose's hands slipped into the back pocket of his jeans and he jerked against her in response, catching her sigh of pleasure with his mouth.

Then, to his surprise, she giggled, breaking the kiss and the hand that had been delightfully poised over his arse slipped out of the pocket, pulling something with it. "What?" he said, petulantly, as her leg slipped down from around his.

He stepped back from her a bit and Rose's hand came up into his field of vision, waving something. "Confident this evening, were we?" she asked, eyebrow raised.

He snatched the object from her fingers and saw, to his horror, it was a condom. A condom that he certainly hadn't put there.

"No! I certainly wasn't! I would never - well, except that we were just, but you aren't merely - we - I didn't intend -" he sputtered, holding the brightly coloured foil wrapper between two fingers and squinting at it with great distaste. In a cheerful, bubbly font, the condom happily declared, _"Jack Harkness approves!"_on one side and the other side had a picture of Jack (naked) giving the viewer a cheeky thumbs up. He dropped it to the floor in consternation and Rose just continued to laugh, her other hand falling from his waist to clutch her sides.

"Good to know he approves," Rose gasped, picking up the offending item. "In fact -" she reached into her own back pocket and pulled out another just like it. "He hit my bum when he greeted me this evening. Should have known he'd pull something like that. He probably gave those to everyone at that party."

John laughed reluctantly as well, watching as Rose pocketed both condoms with a wink and then took his hand again. "Tea, you said?" she asked and he blinked at her.

He opened his mouth to find something else to say and then shut it promptly when Rose darted up to lay a quick kiss on his lips. "Me too," she said, reading his eyes and, quite possibly, his heart. "But you were right, stairwell probably isn't the best place. I'd much rather take my time with you, Captain Tightpants."

He coughed slightly and then began to follow her up the stairs, moving as best he could with the tightness of his trousers. Once inside the door to his flat, he kicked off his shoes and watched Rose do the same with her boots and her bag before she followed him to the kitchen. He tried to glance around surreptitiously to make sure there weren't any terribly embarrassing things on the floors or counters. Luckily, he'd done laundry this morning so the pants that had been decorating the floor in the loo were now safely in the dryer and he'd even changed the sheets earlier today. Oh, happy fate.

To his surprise, Rose followed him over near the stove to hop up on the counter there instead of sitting in one of the chairs at the bar. He pulled open his fridge before he remembered its depressing contents and he heard Rose laugh over his shoulder. "Not much of a homemaker, eh?" she asked.

"Not so much," he admitted, reaching his arm as far back into a cabinet as he could, hoping to find some tea bags. He gave a successful 'ha!' as he pulled out an unopened box of English Breakfast and blew off some dust, to Rose's amusement. After he put the kettle on, he turned to face her as she sat, swinging her legs on his counter, as though she had always been there. He liked that thought more than he dared admit. "I must apologize for my earlier behaviour," he said, looking down at his stockinged feet, feeling suddenly guilty.

"Really?" Rose asked and he could hear the slight frown in her voice. "And why is that?"

Taking a deep breath, he looked back up at her. "Because I proclaimed myself a gentleman and then I accosted you in the stairwell like a lad of twenty."

"Were you under the impression that I somehow minded that?" Rose asked, hopping down from the counter to stand in front of him.

He coughed slightly, focusing on her shoulder. "Well -"

"Because I didn't," she cut him off. "And I don't do this, John. I don't go to parties and pick up men and come back to their flats after only knowing them for a grand total of less than five hours."

"Me either," he admitted.

"Ah, more of a five and half hour guy?" she teased and he gave her a relief-filled smile in response, once again grateful for her keen and easy wit. She leaned forward then, her mouth just centimeters from his own and he relaxed.

"Yes," he mumbled into her lips. "Five and a half hours, that's me. Although you seem to break every one of my rules."

"So, it's ok if I kiss you again?" Rose asked, her lips drifting over his chin and up his jawbone toward his ear.

"Absolutely," he murmured, already half-hard again. "In fact, I insist on it."

"I was wondering if I was going to have to seduce you with some more sci-fi," she said and this time he shivered as her teeth pulled gently on his earlobe.

"Actually, I insist on _that_," he said, fumbling to switch off the stove and throwing his head back as her lips made their way back toward his throat. The last thing he wanted right now was for the kettle to startle her into stopping. Tea could wait.

He could not.

Rose pulled back a moment to give him a cheeky, tongue-touched smile. "As you wish," she said, then tugged the hem of his jumper up over his head and, just like that, he was shirtless in his kitchen with a gorgeous woman in his arms. Rose's hands moved to his waist, her thumbs making small circles on his exposed hipbones and her mouth back on his collarbone, tracing light caresses there. He held his breath, waiting for her to speak again, his entire being focused on her, practically vibrating with want. He could tell when she'd thought up the next thing she wanted to say as he felt her smile against his skin.

"One ring to rule them all," she said, moving one hand up his torso to count his ribs. He gasped when the fingers of that hand came in contact with his nipple making him groan and almost miss her second line. "One ring find them," Rose continued, her mouth then dropping to the other nipple, where she laved substantial attention before pulling back slightly. Her right hand moved across his stomach and the muscles there automatically contracted, anticipating her next destination - and weren't disappointed when she scraped her nails through the thin trail of hair that led into his trousers. "One Ring to bring them all..." He whimpered against her as she popped the button and lowered his fly, sighing in relief as the pressure of the fabric loosened against his rigid cock. He was harder than he could ever remember being before and she hadn't even properly touched him yet.

Rose's head came up to look him in the eye then as her fingers danced lower and she had his complete attention, his every breath poised on her next words and next touch. "And in the darkness bind them," she whispered as he leaned down to catch her lips and her hand wrapped around him. His lips stalled against hers as she freed him from his pants, stroking lightly. Giving up on responding properly, he put his head down in the crook of her neck and panted as she brought him higher and higher with every twist and brush of her fingers.

Everything was happening a lot faster than he'd ever remembered it happening before, but two years of self-imposed celibacy with only unsatisfactory encounters with his right hand in the shower and he supposed that was to be expected. Plus, he'd never felt quite like this before, like his whole soul was on fire for the woman in front of him. She seemed to (correctly) interpret the increased hitching in his breath and lightened her touch, which made him groan, although in regret or relief, he wasn't sure. He was just remembering that he had hands and that he could use them, when she unexpectedly dropped to her knees in front of him instead and all coherent thought left again.

Joan had told him early on in their intimate relationship that she didn't care for giving oral sex and, being a gentleman, he'd never asked her for it again, no matter how much he'd wanted it. And he'd wanted it. It was one of favourite his pleasures (that and the reverse, which he'd gotten quite good at in university, he was positive) and he hadn't had it in nearly three years now. The feel of Rose's hot mouth on him nearly did him in immediately, his hands finally waking up, one going to her shoulder and the other hovering near her head, not quite willing to settle in case she didn't want him there. He was completely overwhelmed by the sight of her blonde head moving up and down his shaft in earnest and he could feel his release building. Caught between feeling embarrassed at how fast it was happening and just wanting to come down her throat as soon as possible, he moaned her name to her in warning even as his balls tightened. He felt her smile around him before plunging him back down deep once more and he exploded in her mouth, his knees nearly giving out with the violence of his release.

He finally opened his eyes to look down, just in time to spot Rose wiping her mouth on the back of her hand, which made him groan again. He hauled her up by her shoulders, finally kissing her with the thoroughness he hadn't quite been able to manage earlier. After a few minutes, he broke the kiss as her jumper rubbed against his bare chest and the rough denim of her jeans chafed against his sensitive, softened cock a bit unpleasantly.

They stared at each other a moment, her with a wide canary grin and him with a sated, albeit slightly embarrassed smile as he tucked himself away in his pants, leaving his trousers open. "I'm never going to be able to watch those movies the same again, you know" he said, which only made Rose's grin grow larger. Determined to wipe the smirk off her face, he took the opportunity to walk her backwards until she was flush against the fridge, his hand moving up her her shirt to caress the underside of her satiny bra with his thumb. "And now, my lady, I think it's your turn," he murmured against her neck as he brushed his lips behind her ear.

"Bedroom?" Rose gasped, to his satisfaction, when his teeth found the sensitive spot where her neck met her shoulder.

It was his turn to flash her a cheeky smile as he swept her up over his shoulder. "As you wish!"


	3. Chapter 3

**A bit of Star Trek, a bit of Schubert, and a bit of the immortal Douglas Adams for our besotted pair. And for interested parties...a bit of smut, a bit of fluff, and a bit more smut. =) **

**For kelkat9, who has been kicking me in the bum about this one. **

**One (?) more after this (the morning - and shagging - after)**

His triumphant carry-the-girl-over-the-shoulder move lost a bit of its smugness when his unbuttoned trousers began to fall down in the doorway of the bedroom, making him almost drop Rose in surprise. He did manage to get her to his navy duvet-covered bed in one piece and then mock-elegantly stepped out of his trousers as though he'd meant for events to transpire like that. Leaning back on her elbows, Rose flickered her gaze down his body and grinned lazily somewhere around his hips. John glanced down, suddenly fearful that he'd worn an embarrassing pair of pants (honestly, he hadn't expected anyone else to see them). He sighed in relief at the normal blue boxer-briefs. At least he hadn't worn the Wookie pair (although, actually, Rose probably wouldn't mind).

"Well, then, Mr. Spock," Rose drawled, grinning up at him. "Thrusters on full?"

He cocked his head at her, appreciative of the Star Trek innuendo but confused at its placement until he looked back down again at his left thigh while taking off his socks. Placed proudly there on his leg was the Starfleet Insignia. Ah, these were his Science Officer briefs.

Of course, he'd also been right in that Rose didn't seem to mind. The hasty thought that he wouldn't mind seeing her in a pair of them crossed his mind. He had a full set around here someplace...command gold, perhaps?

Shaking that thought away for the moment he smiled at her and then leaned over, nuzzling her nose with his. "Trousers off first, I believe," he said, kissing her gently as his fingers moved to unbutton her jeans. He smiled into her mouth as the button gave way but got distracted by the delicious slide of her lips on his, his hands stilling as he focused instead on her delightful tongue. Rose wriggled underneath him, pressing up into his stationary hand, jolting him back to his task. "Clothes, yes, off," he mumbled, pulling back so he could ease the jeans off her hips. Rose sat up and discarded her jumper on her own, apparently deciding that he was moving too slowly for her.

He sucked in a breath as he moved back to take in the full view of her, more aroused than he'd ever been. Rose was wearing a navy satin bra that matched her now-removed jumper and a pair of simple dark pink cotton knickers. Under his steadfast gaze, she sucked in a deep breath, the action causing her chest to rise sharply, which caught all of his attention. She was flushed and tousled from his hands and he had never seen anything more beautiful in his entire life.

"Wow," he breathed, almost unintentionally, the playfulness of their seduction falling away as he revelled in awe of her. "You're beautiful, Rose."

She flushed delightfully and bit her lower lip, shifting up toward the pillows. "Thanks," she managed, the red of her cheeks only endearing her to him more. After he merely stood there staring at her for a few long moments, she finally added, "You coming?"

He blinked, avoiding the lascivious comment that chirped up in his mind (in Jack's voice), and then nodded, joining her on the bed. Propped up on his elbow, he moved beside her, his free hand tracing up her arm and watching the gooseflesh appear in its wake. John leaned over her then, his lips brushing against her jawline, searching for the right words to say to her, remembering her unorthodox but effective earlier seduction in his kitchen, desperate to impress her. However, all of his banter and his wit seemed to have evaporated, leaving within him only a fierce burning for her too intense to examine and too new to study.

Thinking of her last question, he took a deep breath and settled on quoting a master far better than he at conveying romantic prose to beautiful women. "The nightingale calls lovingly to me from the misty vale," he started, shifting his weight slightly so he could trail his mouth down her collarbone toward the tops of her breasts. "I am coming," John murmured, his fingers tracing over her skin gently. "But whither?" He pressed a kiss to her right breast before moving his lips over to the soft left mound and whispering, "And to where?" Breathless, he and Rose moved together to unhook and discard her bra. When it was thrown over the edge of his bed somewhere, they stared at one another, neither of them moving in anticipation.

"That didn't sound like Joss Whedon," Rose murmured, her eyes wide, pupils dilated, arching into his touch.

"Schubert," John replied, giving her a small smile.

"Ooo, classical music, too," she teased, gently brushing one of his curls from his eyes. "That's a whole different kind of nerd. I love it."

"Violin lessons," he replied, leaning down to kiss her again and brushing his thumb lightly against the underside of her breasts. "And university singers."

As their mouths got more adventurous, he allowed his touches to get bolder, coaxing her nipples into standing upright and making her moan against his mouth. His arousal was already stirring again, beginning to harden against her thigh, but he wanted to focus on her right now, to make her feel as good as she had made him feel in the kitchen just moments ago. He replaced his fingers with his mouth and allowed his now-free hand to dance down near the elastic line of her knickers, not quite willing to dart underneath quite yet, still light and teasing. Rose had one hand on the back of his neck, holding his talented tongue to her breast and the other was moving up and down his back, nails digging in as he began closing in on her core. The scrape of her nails against his skin was far more titillating than he'd expected and he decided that they would have to explore that more later. When he once again flitted away instead of touching her, she made a whining noise and he lifted his head from her chest to grin cheekily at her.

"Arse," she snorted, with a mock scowl.

"And just when I was being so very kind to you," he replied, pulling back despite her noise of protest. "Shift, please," John commanded softly, dragging her hips towards him and kneeling beside the bed. Rose's eyes instantly darkened again and his smile grew wider. She sat up, running her hand through his hair and his eyes fell closed in pleasure, resting his cheek against her thigh.

Opening his eyes, he looked up at her, flushed and panting and smiled. "May I?" he asked, his hands moving up to her knickers, thumbs hooking in the fabric at her hitched breath. She nodded and took a deep breath and he pulled the cotton fabric off, throwing it over his shoulder to join her bra somewhere in the depths of his room.

He pressed a kiss to the inside of her knee, trying to gather his thoughts together. It had been a long time since he'd done this and he didn't want to disappoint her. Everything they'd done together so far had been effortlessly brilliant and he hoped that wouldn't change now that he was in charge. The fingers of his left hand came up to nervously caress her stomach and Rose sighed happily, making him relax. He drifted his right hand further up her thigh, moving her left leg to hook over his shoulder, giving him better access. His fingers brushed against her curls and Rose moaned, bolstering his confidence again as he breathed in deep, taking in the intoxicating scent of her. This time he allowed one long, thin finger to slip gently inside her, groaning at the ease of which it happened. She was very wet for him already, meaning that she must have been completely turned on while pleasuring him in the kitchen early. He allowed a second finger to join this first, both of them curling and caressing, moving easily through her heat. Delving a little deeper, he found a spot that made Rose's entire body shudder, accompanied by a loud shout and his actions grew bolder, repeating the action while she shook.

Eyes focused intently on Rose's face, he allowed his thumb to brush her clitoris for the first time and was rewarded with another loud moan as Rose thrust her hips up against his hand. Combining the actions of his fingers, the two long, seeking digits pistoning in and out of her and his thumb working a complex rhythm on her clit, John watched appreciatively as Rose fell back on the bed, overcome, one hand moving to fist in his duvet and the other going up to her own breast. He was so entranced by alternating between watching her fingers pull at her pebbled nibble and his own disappearing and reappearing inside her that he didn't realize how close she was getting until her thigh began to tremble next to his ear.

"Please, John, please!" Rose murmured, thrashing her head to the side and something in him broke at her soft plea. He twisted his fingers sharply, pressing his thumb firmly down as his own arousal came ruthlessly surging back in, his cock hardening fully against her leg as Rose yelled his name and clenched tightly against his fingers. He held still for a long breathless moment as her whole body tensed and then copied her movements, bringing her down with soft, gentle strokes as she relaxed bonelessly, flinging one hand over her eyes. John pressed a kiss to her knee next to his ear and then gently moved her leg down, rocking back on his heels to watch her. Her flushed chest was still rising and falling sharply and he could see the glimmer of her orgasm shining in her curls. Unable to resist, he spread the remainder of her wetness on his hand up his length, groaning at the friction, stroking lightly and wanting more.

"That was brilliant," Rose's muffled voice came from the bed accompanied by a satisfied sigh. Moving her arm off her face, Rose propped herself back up on her elbows and grinned lazily at him, watching him pleasure himself. "Round two, then?" she smirked as he blushed and reluctantly stopped the motion of his hand.

"Two and three, I should think," John responded, plucking the two condoms from the back pocket of Rose's discarded jeans and doing his level best to ignore the image of Jack on them as he moved back toward the bed. He tossed the foil packets on his nightstand and then crawled up the bed toward the gorgeous woman who had moved toward the headboard.

"Two and three? Cocky, now aren't we?" Rose teased and any clever response he might have been going to respond with was lost as she reached down stroke him intimately. He rolled over onto his back with a groan and Rose immediately took advantage of his acquiescence by straddling his thigh for better access. Her fingers were just as brilliant as before and were, if anything, more confident and more bold this second time, cupping his testicles and rolling them in her palm. John found himself making a litany of noises he'd never made before, jaw clenched and eyes screwed tightly shut, and getting close to the same reaction he'd had in the kitchen when he reached down to stop her hand.

"You are very, very good at that," he mumbled, lacing their fingers together and squeezing, breathing hard, before opening his eyes to look up at her.

"Thank you," Rose said primly, preening from her position over his thigh with her tongue in her teeth.

"And as brilliant as it feels, - and I don't mean to be presumptuous -," John began, the thumb of his free hand tracing circles over her hip-bone, " but I think I would like move ahead to something a bit more...communal, if you're amenable, that is."

Rose's lips twitched and he was sure she was going to start giggling at him again, but instead she reached over and grabbed one of the condoms, ripping the wrapper open with her teeth to his wide-eyed astonishment (and arousal). "Oh, I think I'm very much 'amenable' to that plan, Doctor Noble," she said, squeezing his hand once more before letting go. She reached down and rolled the condom on him, enjoying his hiss of pleasure and then moved to position herself over his rigid cock, to his surprise again. Oh, she was going to be on top. That's another thing he hadn't done very often, Joan hadn't really ever wanted...oh.

Rose moved her hands to press down against his chest, fingers dancing over his nipples and making him pant in anticipation. God, everything about this woman made his heart beat like he was running a marathon. She waited until he dragged his gaze from his full-mast cock back up to hers before continuing, "And I think I'm going to have to work a bit harder since you can still say the word 'presumptuous'."

He opened his mouth to answer but Rose chose that moment to sink down on him fully, slamming her hips onto his and whatever he had been going to say came out instead as a loud, harsh, "FUCK!" surprising them both.

"That's more like it," Rose panted, rising up despite his strangled sound of protest and then dropping back down with a satisfied sob. John scrambled for a hold on her hips, helping her find a rhythm that made him grunt and moan and her keen with pleasure. They moved together, up and down, a bouncing, glorious rhythm of sweat-slicked skin on skin and John hoped his neighbors weren't in because Rose was _loud_ and, to his genuine surprise, so was he.

He was getting close, so very, very close and as much as he wanted to come into her _hard_, he could tell that Rose wasn't quite at the same spot yet. John moved his hands to her lower back and pushed, urging her to lean down and change the angle so he could kiss her. She took the hint, leaning forward toward him and oh, fuck, that was almost it there, as he felt the change in angle and her wonderful breasts rubbing against him with every push. Their mouths connected messily, tongues and teeth slipping past one another in a frantic haze. He shifted just slightly and could tell he'd found the right spot when Rose gasped above him. Two more shoves of his hips against hers and Rose bit down on his shoulder, her screaming orgasm exploding around him, enveloping him in white-hot pleasure. The scorching, gorgeously tight clenching of her inner muscles around him and the feel of her teeth in his skin were enough to tip him over as well, and he came blindingly hard, erupting into her ferociously with yet another loud groan of deep appreciation.

It seemed to take a while but eventually John came back down from his soaring high to the feel of his softening arousal beginning to slip from Rose's heat. She was a delightfully sated, limp pile on his chest and, much as he didn't want to move, he needed to dispose the condom. Rose must have felt him shift beneath her because she made a satisfied purring sound and then reached down to help him neatly disentangle them, before rolling off him with a smug smile.

"One moment," he said, pressing a gentle kiss to her lips before climbing out of the bed and padding to the loo. He returned a moment later with a warm flannel, offering it to her before moving about to pull on his pants and to find a nightshirt for Rose. He plucked one of his favourite old Oxford shirts from the drawer, his heart skipping a beat as he imagined her wearing it before turning back to the bed, only to find it empty.

Fear leapt into his throat and he frantically looked around to find her clothes still scattered on the bedroom floor. She couldn't have left without her clothes, right? To his relief, he heard the toilet flush in the loo and let out a relieved sigh. "Would you like a shirt to sleep in?" he called, walking over toward the ensuite, hoping she would hear the deeper invitation in his question.

"Yeah, ta," Rose replied, plucking it from his fingers and slipping it on as she emerged from the loo and he gaped at her half-naked form. She looked just as incredible in that shirt as he had imagined, possibly even more. "So it's ok if I stay, then?" she asked, her gaze moving from his to her fingers as they pulled at the hem of his shirt nervously.

"I insist on it," he answered, tugging her into an embrace and smiling into her sweet-smelling hair as he remembered echoes of their previous conversation. "Do I need to seduce you with some sci-fi?"

"I think you've done plenty of seducing tonight, mister," Rose replied, tightening her arms around him. "But who am I to stand in the way of a man wearing science officer briefs?"

John laughed, tugging her over to the bed with him. He sprawled out on his back and Rose curled in next to him, his arm around her shoulders and hers tightened on his waist. Her head fit nicely in the crook of his shoulder and she hooked one leg over his, burrowing down into his warm embrace under the duvet. He traced a gentle pattern on her shoulder and pressed a kiss into her hair before whispering, "I may not have gone where I intended to go…"

"...but I think I have ended up where I needed to be," Rose finished along with him softly.


End file.
